


i'll be here when daylight's gone

by aliatori



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ftm!Gladio, M/M, Morning Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Trans Character, my soft Gladnoct addiction continues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-24 14:09:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14956104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliatori/pseuds/aliatori
Summary: Noctis spends the morning with Gladio before the kingdom requires his attention.





	i'll be here when daylight's gone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sordes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sordes/gifts).



> _IMPORTANT NOTE:_ Please read and be aware of the tags before continuing. This story refers to Gladio's anatomy using anatomical terms.
> 
> A big thanks to [AccursedSpatula](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AccursedSpatula/pseuds/AccursedSpatula) and [roadsoftrial](https://archiveofourown.org/users/roadsoftrial/pseuds/roadsoftrial) for their assistance.
> 
> I hope you enjoy, sordes. <3

Each time Noctis wakes, his memories are slow to wake with him.

Changing his alarm might help. The _Justice Monsters Five_ theme cheerfully trilling from his phone on the bedside table was a choice driven by nostalgia. It conjures up the sharp rap of Ignis on the bedroom door in his apartment, or the jab of a foot to the kidney from Prompto as they’re crammed in a tent on the outskirts of Leide, or the pressure of Gladio’s hands on his shoulders as he shakes Noctis awake. 

Sleeping in a crystal for a decade will do a lot to muddy up your memories, Noctis finds, and all the ones that the ringtone manifests are long past.

All of them except Gladio.

He’s been within arm’s reach since the beginning: first and foremost as his Shield-in-waiting, then as his friend, then as more, a transition as natural as the rhythm of the ocean, deep and fathomless and forever.

He can’t remember a time without Gladio—aside from one—and he wouldn’t want to. All of them did their parts to bring back the dawn, and all of them work now to restore Lucis to its former strength, but it’s Gladio who keeps him grounded, just like he did when they were younger, before the world was plunged into darkness and a prophecy denied. When Noctis feels like an imposter king sitting on the throne, when he threatens to buckle under the strain of a thousand demands, when he needs to blow off steam, when nightmares wake him screaming in the night, when he needs _anything_ , Gladio is there.

Shield of the King, but so much more. 

Noctis exhales sharply through his nose in what might be a laugh. Old age seems to be making him sentimental—like 31 counts as old. Maybe 31 does count as old when you spent ten of those years in the grip of the Astrals. Even still, he may as well be three hundred some mornings as he catalogues his various badges of honor: the sharp ache in his knee twinging with every movement, the stiff stretch of old scars raked along his back, the full strength of the Crystal’s magic settled on his soul, and the intangible weight of running a rebuilding kingdom.

At least arriving to some sort of wakefulness is easier these days than it used to be. Gone are the days of long naps against Gladio’s shoulder in the Regalia or of sleeping in until noon. Noctis opens his eyes and takes in the bright sunlight streaming in through the windows of his royal quarters; the room is a spacious, sprawling affair at the top of the Citadel. Kingship has its drawbacks, but it also has its perks, and the living situation counts as one of them.

“You gonna turn that alarm off or what?”

The grousing brings a smile to Noctis’s face. Gladio has half his face pressed into the pillow, muffling words already thick with sleep. One tattooed arm escapes the tangle of blankets that have twisted around him during the night, the faded lines of ink almost grey in comparison to the deep midnight black of the sheets. A curtain of rich, brown hair—Noctis still isn’t used to how long its gotten in the year since he returned—falls over Gladio’s face and shoulders, obscuring most of his expression, but Noctis is almost certain he’s smiling.

“Dunno.” Noctis hums thoughtfully as he sits up and leans over to pick up his phone, the _Justice Monsters Five_ theme song bopping along. “If annoys you so much, I might leave it on for a while.”

Gladio blows air between his lips with a rude noise. “Ass.” He brushes his hair away from his face, and Noctis’s suspicions are confirmed: a smile accompanies the casual insult.

“What would the Council say—” Noctis thumbs off the alarm, sets his phone aside, and shifts closer to Gladio. “—if they knew how you talked to me in private?” He reaches down and cups one of Gladio’s cheeks with his palm, beard surprisingly soft against his hand, rubbing his thumb back and forth along the first scar he got for Noctis, all those years ago.

“They’d thank me, probably,” Gladio says with a low laugh, leaning into the touch. “Maybe give me a few pointers too.”

“I’m sure they will after today.” Noctis yawns and stretches his arms out to the sides, careful not to smack Gladio in the face. “Not looking forward to having to play referee between the Duscae and Leide factions for resource allocation. Oh, and having Ravus breathing down my neck about Tenebrae’s reconstruction should make it extra fun.”

“Mmmm, it’s _that_ meeting?” Gladio reaches out, his hands skimming across Noctis’s ribs and belly before settling on his hip bones. “Fuck. I remember the last time this committee got together. You got all authoritative and kingly… it was hot.” There’s a knowing glint in those amber eyes that Noctis recognizes all too well.

“Yes, it’s _that_ meeting, which means I need to get ready. Ignis wanted to go over the latest updates before we charge headfirst into the behemoth’s den.”

“Or you could stay for a while.” Gladio’s voice has far too much heat to it for this early in the morning. It doesn’t help matters when he arches his back and stretches in an echo of Noctis’s motion. The blankets fall away from his upper body, exposing all of his chiseled, scarred chest. The years have done nothing to diminish Gladio’s physique, that’s for sure.

It’s a delightful mistake to bend down and kiss Gladio, but it’s a mistake Noctis wants to make. He presses a few chaste pecks to Gladio’s bearded cheek before moving his lips to Gladio’s. When Gladio’s hands slide to the small of Noctis’s back, urging him closer, Noctis responds by licking into Gladio’s pliant mouth. The pleased hum Gladio makes in the back of his throat buzzes through Noctis’s blood like an elixir.

“Are you asking as my Shield who’s dreading this meeting, or my husband who wants my company?” Noctis asks when they break apart, grinning.

“Uh, whichever’s more likely to work?” Gladio’s breath hitches as Noctis begins to nuzzle at Gladio’s neck, inhaling deeply, the faint musk and faded scent of yesterday's cologne a deadly combination. A hiss escapes from Gladio as Noctis nips at the juncture of his shoulder and neck. “ _Shit…_ Noct.”

Either would work if Noctis is being honest with himself. But it’s not as fun to tell Gladio that.

“Last night wasn’t enough for you?” Noctis slots his body more firmly against Gladio’s and licks his way up Gladio’s neck.

“Like you don’t already know the answer to that.” Gladio shifts to wrap his arms around Noctis and gives him a strong, firm hug, the kind that Noctis has always loved since he was a prince instead of a king, the kind that makes him feel safe, the kind that eases any trace of worry from his body and mind.

Noctis pulls back from Gladio and shoves his hair out of his face. As he meets Gladio’s gaze, his lungs and heart seize in his chest for an aching moment before restarting, temporarily petrified by the open longing in those familiar amber eyes. “Maybe I like to hear you say it.”

“I want you.” Never shy about using his strength, Gladio rolls over onto his back and takes Noctis with him. Noctis allows it without complaint since laying on top of Gladio is one of his favourite things to do. “Fuck, I want you all the time,” Gladio breathes, his fingertips following Noctis’s scars down his back until he reaches the waistband of Noctis’s boxer briefs.

The gravelly bass of Gladio’s voice goes right to Noctis’s cock. His frank admiration of Gladio’s body and the act of kissing him, of tasting him, already has him half hard, but hearing the open admission of desire has his cock straining against his underwear.

“That why you married me?” Noctis slides a hand down the defined contours of Gladio’s chest, past his navel, stopping when his fingers reach the patch of trimmed, dark curls.

“I married you—” Gladio says, coaxing Noctis’s hand down lower. Noctis hisses as his fingers slide between Gladio’s folds, the flesh there slick and hot. “—because I love you, and I’m already stuck with you for the rest of my life. The sex is just a bonus.”

“Stuck with me, huh?” Noctis’s voice comes out deeper than he anticipated. The angle isn’t the best for what he intends to do, but his body knows the steps to this dance by rote. He starts to rub his fingertips in a slow circle around Gladio’s clit, exploratory touches meant to tease. Gladio’s eyes drift closed and he bites at his lower lip, rolling his hips into Noctis’s touch.

“Yeah.” Gladio rumbles the word out and continues worrying his lip with his teeth.

Noctis loves seeing Gladio like this, _his_ Shield, _his_ husband, already fighting off the erasure of bliss with a few simple motions. As comfortable as it is to be draped along Gladio’s warm, firm chest, he slides off and positions himself against Gladio’s side, fingers still working at the apex of Gladio’s folds, soft and insistent.

“Never change,” Noctis says. He dips his fingers down close to Gladio’s entrance, gathering more wetness and sweeping it upward, before switching techniques. A long, loud moan that escapes Gladio as Noctis runs the tips of his pointer and middle fingers back and forth along the right side of Gladio’s clit. The noise tells Noctis he’s hitting the right spots and has the added benefit of sending a lance of desire through his body. Gladio’s wet enough that there are slick sounds with each slow pass Noctis makes against his clit.

“ _Noct_.” The way Gladio growls out his name makes his cock jump. He’s so hard, aching to be inside Gladio already, but not yet.

If the king of Lucis is going to show up late to his own meeting, he’s going to make sure it’s worth it for both of them.

“Do you remember the first time we did this?” Noctis traces the shell of Gladio’s ear with his tongue after he asks the question.

Gladio hums, eyes squeezing tight as Noctis increases the pressure of his strokes, spreading his powerful thighs wide to give Noctis better access. When he speaks, his words are interspersed with occasional pants. “Uh, your apartment, I think. Neither one of us knew… knew what the fuck we were doing. Almost got caught by Iggy.”

“Now look at us,” Noctis murmurs, rutting against Gladio’s hip in a search for friction, his cock leaking where it’s trapped in his underwear. He dips his head to kiss one of Gladio’s shoulders, his breath coming out of him in a shuddering rush as he watches Gladio’s face, flushed with pleasure. “Hard to believe we made it here together.” He strokes Gladio a bit faster, brushing his slick, swollen clit with feather light touches on each pass; his cock twitches again as Gladio openly moans, lips falling open, passion contorting his features. 

When Gladio opens his eyes and locks them with Noctis’s, his heart stutters in his chest. His pupils are blown out, black nearly eclipsing the amber, but it’s the affection and need in them that sends a wash of heat through Noctis’s body. It’s hard to believe this is the same man who stands one step behind him in Council meetings, Captain of the Crownsguard, Shield of the King, coming undone by Noctis’s touch alone.

He wouldn’t trade these moments for all the gil in Lucis—even if the kingdom could use it.

Noctis watches as Gladio’s eyes screw shut. He can tell Gladio’s close by the tiny twitches of his thighs and stomach, by the heavy breaths he draws in and out through his nose, by the tension that makes his muscles bulge and flex beneath his skin. Gladio grabs the back of Noctis’s head and guides him down to his lips, kissing him deeply; the hot, velvet heat of Gladio’s tongue in his mouth and cunt against his fingers makes Noctis groan into the kiss. 

“Noct, Noct, _fuck_ , like that, just like that—” Gladio pants against Noctis’s mouth, eyes shut tight and limbs shaking. 

Sheer need sends Noctis into a dizzy spiral as he watches Gladio linger near the edge of climax. He does his best to keep his fingers moving at the same speed, applying the same amount of pressure, urging Gladio closer to the point where he’ll shatter. Gladio grunts, his back arching off the bed, hips straining towards Noctis’s hand. A sweet, painful ache pulses through Noctis’s groin as Gladio comes with a low, loud moan. As he does, he stops stroking Gladio’s clit, easing off before oversensitivity takes over. Noct slides the same two fingers down and inside Gladio’s cunt, so wet it barely takes any effort to press them in, savouring the rhythmic, powerful clench of his inner walls as he rides out his orgasm.

A light sheen of sweat covers Gladio’s exposed skin, a dusky flush colouring his cheeks, beautifully muscled chest heaving. Noctis withdraws his fingers from Gladio and kisses him, sweet and soft, sucking and nibbling on Gladio’s lower lip as he comes down from his orgasm.

“That okay?” Noctis asks, running his hand along Gladio’s inner thighs, dragging his blunt nails lightly over the skin.

“You know damn well it was,” Gladio says, still a little breathless, leveling a flat stare at Noctis.

“Doesn’t mean I don’t want to hear it.” Noctis laughs quietly, peppering Gladio’s jawline with kisses. “Can I get to running the country now?”

It’s Gladio’s turn to laugh, shaking his head. “Uh huh. You ain’t goin’ anywhere just yet.” Gladio reaches down between Noctis’s legs to palm at his clothed cock; he’s still rock hard, and Gladio’s touch sends another desperate throb through him. “Still haven’t got what I was really after.”

“Work, work, work,” Noctis teases. He tosses the blankets back to free his limbs from the snarl of fabric before shimmying out of his boxer briefs, cock bobbing once before straining towards his belly. Noctis finally pushes himself off the bed and sits back on his ankles. He takes his cock in hand and jerks it in slow, lazy passes as he looks at Gladio—his husband, his Shield—sprawled out on the bed. In a changing world, the sight of Gladio is achingly familiar, all chiseled muscles and bold lines of tattoo, hair fanned across the pillow where his head still rests.

“C’mere.” Gladio shoves the midnight sheets off his own body, exposing his nakedness. Noctis’s eyes take all of of him in, piece by piece. Even though a year has passed since his return, Noctis finds himself surprised by the subtle changes in Gladio, new scars decorating his body and fine lines creasing his face. His gaze lingers on the glistening folds between Gladio’s thighs, slightly swollen, and Noctis feels the rest of his blood rush south. “We don’t got all day.”

“First you beg me to shirk my royal bureaucratic duties,” Noctis begins, shifting to position himself between Gladio’s spread legs, “then you tell me to hurry up. Remind me again why I put up with you.” Noctis leans down and places a kiss right over Gladio’s heart, rubbing his palms over Gladio’s body in idle, thoughtless caresses.

“Because you need me, really. Who else is gonna agree to die for your ass?” Gladio asks, flashing Noctis an arrogant grin that reminds him of times before the world drowned in darkness. Gladio wraps his strong legs around Noctis’s waist and pulls him closer, his arms winding around Noct’s neck. “And because you love me.”

“I do,” Noctis agrees, reaching down to take hold of his cock and guide himself to Gladio’s entrance, rubbing his cockhead up and down the warm, wet folds, teasing once more. “Dunno what I’d do without you.”

“Lucky for you, you’ll never have to find out.” Gladio’s words are quiet and fierce in the relative silence of their bedroom. There’s a new intensity to his gaze as he meets Noctis’s eyes. “Ten years without you was… more than enough. I ain’t ever leaving your side again.”

“Better not.” Noctis slots his mouth against Gladio’s at the same time as he sheaths his cock inside Gladio’s silken heat. Astrals, he’s _so_ tight, so wet and ready to take all of Noctis; the thought has him stop once he’s fully inside of Gladio and take a few deep, even breaths to steady himself. He gives an appreciative groan into their kiss. No matter what happens outside these four walls, this is where Noctis will always belong, with Gladio, _in_ Gladio, every nerve in his body electrified with pleasure. 

Before Noctis was separated from Gladio by prophecy, they rarely did anything that qualified as lovemaking, all bruising grips and urgent fucks. Now… Six, he has a new appreciation for a slower cadence, for savouring each time he fills Gladio with his cock, for the way Gladio’s hips roll in time with with his own. Where once it was a struggle with each of them vying for control, now they meet each other halfway, and Noctis’s heart sings with the sheer joy of it.

It’s that slower rhythm they find now. Gladio runs his hands up and down Noctis’s back, murmuring wordless encouragement mixed with an occasional grunt or gasp. Instinct makes Noctis want to thrust harder, to chase his climax as fast as possible—once, he might have. Now, he’s content to enjoy this, to attune his senses to Gladio, to fill each and every one of them with the glorious man beneath him.

Never again, Gladio had said, and Noctis agrees.

He pours that agreement into their kiss, into the snap of his hips, into the moans he vocalizes when they part for air. Pleasure ignites like raw elemancy in Noctis’s body, like the Lucian magic he bears as king, equally as powerful and intoxicating. Gladio’s head is tipped back on the pillow, his throat bared, and Noctis dips his head to suck a mark onto the skin there. He makes his way back to Gladio’s mouth, leaving a trail of red marks in his wake—they’ll deepen to purple, eventually, but the high collar of Gladio’s formal robes will cover it. Noctis learned that fact mere weeks after his return.

Sweat prickles across Noctis’s skin, brought to life by exertion; he still trains with Gladio, so he could do this for a while, but his heart thunders in his chest with effort and desire. He pumps into Gladio faster now, spurred on by Gladio reaching between their bodies and fingering at his clit. He usually does that when he’s close; that knowledge drives Noctis’s own desire higher. He’s breathless and full of want—he wants Gladio, he wants more, he wants to feel him clench around his cock as he loses himself to climax again.

“ _Gladio_ ,” Noctis murmurs the words into Gladio’s ear. “I know you wanna come for me again.” He thrusts hard into Gladio, skin slapping against skin, Gladio’s wetness coating him right down to the base of his cock. “Please, let me feel you.”

Gladio says nothing, but his hand moves faster, little back and forth motions he prefers when he’s pleasuring himself. His thighs clench around Noctis’s waist, ankles crossed at the small of Noctis’s back, drawing him closer in.

They tumble over the edge together.

Tension seizes Gladio’s body for the second time. He stutters out a moan as he comes; Noctis fucks him through his orgasm in slow, measured strokes, his inner walls pulsing and fluttering around Noctis’s cock. Noctis surrenders to the fire that’s been building low in his abdomen since Gladio guided his hand to his cunt. A handful of hard, urgent thrusts later and his own climax rips through him, stealing his breath and vision. He holds himself deep inside Gladio’s slick heat as he comes, pressing his forehead to Gladio’s as he fills him with his release, cock throbbing all the while.

Noctis wishes they could bask in the afterglow longer. Gladio cards his fingers through Noctis’s hair after he collapses onto his Shield’s broad chest, both of them breathing hard, sated. No matter how much they do this, no matter how many moments they steal back from the Lucian kingdom, Noctis fears it may never be enough.

Reluctantly, Noctis withdraws from Gladio and rolls over on the bed, groping for his phone. He mutters a curse under his breath when he sees the time.

“Now we’re actually going to be late.”

Gladio laughs, a rich, deep, comforting sound. “What’re they gonna do, fire you? Ain’t like we got any spare kings hanging around.”

Noctis sits up and curls his fingers around Gladio’s thick wrist. “If they do, I’ll just blame you.” After a beat, he adds a question. “Shower?”

“No shit. Not going to listen to a room of crusty old farts argue about trading rights with your come dripping out of me.”

Noctis rolls his eyes but smiles in spite of the gesture. “Come on, then.” 

They manage a fast shower without too many distractions—aside from a few playful gropes on Gladio’s part, which is to be expected—and the shower is followed by a whirlwind of activity in the bathroom. Though they’re hurried and rushed this morning, the domesticity is a luxury to Noctis, sharing this intimate space with Gladio and Gladio alone; even the fact that Noctis has to elbow him out of the way so that he can brush his teeth is a strange sort of gift.

Hair and body dry, Noctis gets into his formal attire in record time. His hands are steady as he dresses, his gaze falling to the white-gold ring on his left hand, opposite in both appearance and meaning to the black Ring of the Lucii on his right. They're as much a part of his armor against the world as the clothing he wears; it’s a kingly raiment sort of day—it’s always a kingly raiment sort of day, a reminder of the authority he’s still in the process of establishing.

Unsurprisingly, saving the world from certain destruction isn’t enough to satisfy everyone. 

He’s adjusting the golden chain that holds his cape together when he catches sight of Gladio in the mirror they share.

Gladio stands tall and proud, his back straight, his hair pulled away from his face and tied back in a simple braid. He cuts a regal figure whether he enjoys doing so or not, strong Amicitia features and sculpted body lending themselves well to the black and gold of the royal Lucian robes. Amber eyes find Noctis’s own twilight blue ones in the mirror, sparkling with mirth.

“Now who’s screwing off?”

It would be easy to take the bait, to rise to Gladio's taunt, but Noctis doesn't. He chooses instead to give voice to a trickle of the endless gratitude that wells up within him each time he looks at his Shield.

Old age seems to be making Noctis sentimental after all.

“Thank you,” he says.

Gladio’s expression blurs at the edges. He turns to Noctis, cradling his freshly-shaven chin in his hand, tilting it upward ever so slightly so their gazes meet. “For what?”

For swearing a lifelong oath to him. For training him. For pushing him. For always telling him the truth, no matter how much it hurt. For being his friend. For waiting for him. For marrying him. For loving him.

“Everything.” Noctis doesn’t feel the need to elaborate. He rarely does.

Gladio’s answering kiss does a better job at saying ‘you’re welcome’ than the words themselves ever could.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! <3 Comments and kudos are appreciated if you enjoyed.
> 
> Come find me living the Gladiolus Amicitia appreciation life over on [Tumblr](http://aliatori.tumblr.com/) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/AliatoriEra).


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